Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (45 page)

It was a thrilling run. Ahead she could see the tail of the Wesman force. The supply wagons were drawn up in a line, their backs to her approach. A few guards were scattered about them, but her
prize was the Wesman reserve and Ystormun’s carriage, which lay beyond them.

Away to the east she saw swift movement over the grass. Merrat and Merke’s cells cruised towards the enemy. The picture was complete. All they needed from the village was . . .

A rippling series of detonations eclipsed the war cries of the Wesman attackers. Smoke billowed into the air and flames grasped at the sky. There were screams of pain and roared orders. Bodies
were flung high to land broken and burned on the ground. As one, the Wesman reserve force, over a hundred warriors, turned to stare at the carnage meted out to their brethren.

The three cells formed a fighting line on the sprint, racing around the right-hand side of the wagon line. Faleen drew her twin blades and attacked. She chopped a blade into the lower back of a
guard, pacing on to smash her other blade into the buttocks of another.

She was past them both before they had a chance to cry out. Haloor spear-kicked another in the back of the neck, landed and swept a blade into the skull of a second, clearing his path to the
reserve. Jyrrian hurled a jaqrui at his target, missing him by a breath. The blade mourned away, thudding into the shoulder of a reserve warrior.

The Wesman yelled his pain and turned just as his comrades awoke to the attack. At a barked command they drew their weapons and faced Faleen’s nine. Oryaal took his cell left and
Dodann’s split right. Faleen crashed into the centre of them, and simultaneously Merrat and Merke hammered into their left flank.

Blades clashed and sparked and the Wesmen yelled for support; the shamen would not be long in coming. Faleen dropped to her haunches and swept the legs from her opponent. He fell heavily, and
she stepped on the blade of his axe and thrust a sword into his throat.

She rose to her feet, blocked a sword strike to her midriff and stepped right, catching the flat of an axe on her right-hand blade. She forced the weapon up and thrust her second blade into the
warrior’s armpit. Haloor’s blade deflected a stab at her exposed left flank. He kicked out straight, forcing a small space. Jyrrian came through into it, planting a roundhouse kick into
the temple of his target and sending him stumbling back. Faleen followed up, opening his gut and dumping his entrails into the dust. She paced back and moved left with her Tai, leaving the Wesman
to scream and fall to his knees, staring at his own innards.

‘Shamen incoming!’ called Dodann.

‘Break and cover,’ shouted Faleen. She ducked an axe swing and drove a kick into her attacker’s knee, forcing it backwards, breaking bone and ripping tendon and muscle.
‘Shetharyn at your discretion.’

Haloor and Jyrrian came to her shoulders. The Wesmen had backed up a pace. Orders sang through their chaotic lines. To her left the fighting remained intense where Merke and Merrat were
pressing.

‘Don’t give them room to get the shamen at us,’ said Faleen. ‘Oryaal, push on!’

Faleen raced in again, her speed of foot and hand difficult for the Wesmen to counter. Haloor paced up and leaped, his heels connecting with an enemy chest, knocking his target over. He rode the
fall, swiping his blades to the left and right, having one blocked and the other cut a Wesman face from cheek to cheek.

Faleen followed him in, Jyrrian at her left. Wesmen began to close about them, seeing in Dodann’s withdrawal the chance to bring pressure on the TaiGethen for the first time.

Faleen’s right blade struck the sword hand from a warrior aiming a blow at Haloor. Her left fenced away a quick stab to her groin and she swayed left to avoid another, feeling it slice her
jacket and nick the flesh over her ribs.

Faleen gasped at the sudden pain. She ducked another swing. The blow was beaten upwards by Jyrrian, who followed it with a killing thrust to the chest. Haloor turned a backward somersault and
landed next to her.

‘Tai, we need out of this press,’ said Faleen. ‘Where’s Dodann?’

Haloor moved right to force a little room. Jyrrian felled another Wesman, whose overhead strike had left him off balance and exposed. The three of them took a pace back. Oryaal was a few paces
to their left. Pannos, of his Tai, was bleeding from a cut to his head, blood running down into his eyes.

Oryaal pushed him from the path of an oncoming warrior pair. He fielded one blow; Jyrrian’s jaqrui lodged in the neck of the other. Oryaal nodded and his Tai fell back.

‘Dodann’s in the clear, running the right flank.’

In front of Faleen the Wesman line had solidified. They were well drilled and courageous. The bodies of their comrades littered the ground and they had barely touched an elf, but there was no
fear in their eyes. They held their ground, waiting. Faleen frowned.

She backed up another pace, crouched and drove up, leaping as high as she was able. Over the heads of the reserve she could see why they were so confident. Shamen were moving fast to her right,
obscured by the fighters. Others were moving through the lines. Dodann was running into deep trouble.

‘Shamen in the lines!’ called Faleen as she landed. ‘Oryaal, break to Merrat. Tai, with me to Dodann.’

Faleen sprinted right, drawing a response from some Wesmen who broke ranks to chase her despite the orders howled by their commanders.

‘Dodann, break off!’ shouted Faleen, but he could not hear her. ‘Get back into the fight. You’ve got to get among them. It’s the only way to be safe!’

She ran harder, the Wesmen beginning to break in larger numbers, seeking to cut her off.

‘If that’s the way you want it,’ she muttered. ‘Tai, break them.’

Faleen planted her right foot and drove back into the Wesmen. She could see Dodann, Valess and Myriin moving steadily on out of blade range. Faleen thrashed both her blades right to left,
forcing the Wesmen to take evasive action. Jyrrian drop-kicked one in the gut and Haloor came up on the right, swaying beneath an axe before rocking back and flattening the nose of his target with
a straight kick to his face.

‘Push!’ shouted Faleen. ‘Dodann! Turn!

Wesmen were at their backs as Faleen surged forward. The Wesman line ahead was thin and beyond them, shamen waited for Dodann’s cell. Faleen punched the hilt of a blade into the mouth of
one warrior, knocking his head back, then she opened his throat with the same blade.

Faleen ran into the gap, shouldering another aside and onto Haloor’s swords. A third blocked her path. She took a pace and leaped above him, cycling her blades in her hands and chopping
down onto his head and shoulder as she passed. Faleen landed behind Dodann’s cell just as he ran into the sight of the Shamen.

Black rods of energy, each thick as a fist, skewered his cell, each one finding the heart. She watched helpless as the TaiGethen were plucked from their feet and hurled back. The shamen held
them in the air for a moment before tossing their bodies aside like discarded dolls. This was no broken black fire and its potency was extreme.

Faleen turned, and as she did saw the back cloth of the single carriage twitch.

‘Speed!’ she howled. ‘Tai, with me!’

Faleen called on the shetharyn, and the world slowed around her. The shamen were looking for new targets. The Wesmen were closing around her cell. Jyrrian and Haloor turned to follow her. She
saw a Wesman with his back to her sweep out an arm. Jyrrian ran straight into it, his attention on Haloor. He tumbled to the ground, his speed gone.

Faleen began to turn. An axe came down slowly. Jyrrian was rolling aside, trying to get his feet under him. Faleen dived headlong. The axe blade passed in front of her face. She grasped at it
but her reach was not enough. Jyrrian raised his hands but the blade took them with it into his chest.

Faleen landed, rolled and stood.

‘Shorth will take you all,’ she hissed.

She shot off after Haloor, tearing across the front of the Wesman lines. Beams of dark energy shot out, blistering the air. Faleen shivered, dreading the bite of the malevolent magic.

‘Oryaal! Break and go.’

On the left Merrat and Merke still fought, but ripples in the Wesman lines told of shamen approaching. Faleen fell back into the battle, her blades sweeping ahead of her. Wesman blood sprayed
into the air.

‘Merrat! Merke!’ Faleen thrashed a blade into the neck of a Wesman, who collapsed forward. Merrat stood there, blood across his face and a cut on his left arm. His blade was cocked
to strike. ‘Break and go! We can’t take these without magic.’

Merrat’s Tai fought around him, giving him a moment’s pause.

‘We’re among them,’ he said. ‘We can win this.’

‘No. Dodann’s Tai is gone, downed by a new power. Please, we have to get out of here and take the message to Auum.’

Merrat looked at the battle about them and back into Faleen’s eyes.

‘I trust you,’ he said.

‘Speed,’ whispered Faleen.

The wards did terrible damage. While Sentaya’s Wesmen sheltered inside the stockade, sending prayers to their spirits and cursing human magic, their enemies had run
headlong into the wide arc of wards Stein had placed to encircle the village and had made active when all were either inside or gone south for safety.

Explosions reverberated through the ground and howling flames glared in the sky. Tribesmen were slaughtered in large numbers and Auum saw the sense of injustice burning bright in Sentaya’s
eyes.

‘I should not have allowed you to do this,’ the Wesman chief said, his face taut and the muscles of his neck corded and proud under his skin. ‘Now human magic stains my hands.
These are my brethren, the people I wish to rule, and they will not forget this day.’

Outside the advance had halted, the roaring charge losing all impetus to be replaced by wails of pain, the cries of dying warriors and the crackle of multiple fires.

‘Think, my Lord Sentaya,’ said Stein. ‘They are nine hundred blades, outnumbering you six to one. No one doubts your courage or skill but those odds are not survivable. What
your subjects won’t forget is how you faced the Wytch Lord, Ystormun, and won, and how some chose black fire to further their own selfish ambition.’

Sentaya knew Stein was right, but Auum could see him wrestling with himself, for a moment unable to provide the leadership his warriors needed. Some were frightened, some angry, and none
relished what was being done in their name.

‘They’re advancing again,’ called Thrynn from her perch on a barn overlooking the field. ‘The shamen are moving up closer behind their warriors. It’s a slow advance
to the last line of wards.’

Auum could hear orders carried on the breeze and feel the vibration of marching feet through the ground.

‘I need a distance countdown,’ said Auum.

They were as ready as they would ever be. A line of warriors, mainly Sentaya’s, stood ten paces back from the stockade ready to attack the moment it was breached, to engage and to break
off in an attempt to bring the enemy into the village. The rest of the force was scattered in and around the buildings, much to Sentaya’s dismay.

‘We need chaos, not line on line, or we’ll lose,’ Auum had said. Sentaya had wanted to lead his warriors in a charge.

Stein’s mages were set behind the warrior line, sending shivers down the spines of the Wesmen, who had sworn never to turn their backs on human magic. And the Il-Aryn were in three groups,
charged with providing as much defence as they could muster against the black fire as the warriors charged. Beyond that, planning was pointless.

‘Seventy-five,’ called Thrynn.

‘Closing on the obscurement ward grid,’ said Stein,

‘I wish those had all been fire walls now,’ said Ulysan.

‘Stamina is a finite thing. This was the best we could do in the time,’ said Stein a little testily.

‘Just saying,’ said Ulysan.

‘Isn’t it time you went to your place?’ said Stein.

‘I think you’ll find my place is next to Auum. Always has been.’

Auum held up his hands. ‘Will you two stop it? What is this?’

‘Sixty-five,’ called Thrynn. ‘Wards in five.’

‘It’s called bickering,’ said Stein. ‘It’s what brothers do.’

Ulysan enveloped him in a bear hug and gave him a big wet kiss. Stein pushed him away and wiped at his cheek.

‘That’s disgusting,’ he said.

‘It’s for luck,’ said Ulysan.

‘Does he do that before every battle?’ asked Stein.

Auum shook his head. ‘It’s a first.’

‘I’m . . . honoured.’

‘Just get casting,’ said Ulysan.

A series of dull thuds was heard. With the triggering of the first ward, the rest followed in sequence. Thick oily dark grey smoke spread in all directions like the deepest of winter fogs,
rising thirty feet into the sky.

‘Go, go!’ called Sentaya.

His forty or so archers ran through gaps opened in the stockade on the three land-facing sides of the village. The Julatsans followed, already preparing spells. In the village the Il-Aryn began
their work, ready for the inevitable.

‘Speak to me, Thrynn.’

‘Nothing to see, Auum. The smoke is too thick. Arrows are flying into it all across the arc. Spells away too . . .’

Auum saw them go as well as the black shafts of arrows, twenty orbs of fire trailing smoke and plunging out of sight just before impact. Auum closed his eyes. Like the wards, the Wesmen would
not have seen them coming. More arrows shot across the gap. A handful were returned, but such was the confusion within the smoke that nearly all were poorly directed, falling harmlessly towards the
lake or even back down among their own.

Above the smoke huge drops of fire began to fall from the clouded sky. Auum scanned across the arc of the attack front. Like burning leaves falling in a rainforest fire, they tumbled into the
fog. And like many of Gyal’s tears, the fire rain was torrential but short-lived.